


Deep Cover

by JayEz



Series: Husbands in Crime (Coldwave Week 2016) [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Earth-2, M/M, Mayor Lisa Snart, Mild Sexual Content, Undercover Agent Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In addition to the threat from Zoom, crime is on the rise in Central City. Mayor Lisa Snart comes under fire for enacting a curfew. Good thing someone is infiltrating Central City’s criminal underworld to ensure the situation won’t escalate any further… </p>
<p>[Coldwave Week, Day 3: Earth 2]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Cover

**Author's Note:**

> It took me some time to figure out how to make this prompt fill work, but I really like how this turned out. Hope you enjoy this as well!

The door to the mayor’s office bursts open with so much force that it would have knocked anyone standing behind it to the ground. 

Ayah Zakaria Khoury might not look like much, but she has a temperament that puts most members of the Board of Supervisors to shame. Not even doors are safe – then again, Khoury’s reaction was to be expected, given the drastic measures decided upon a mere hour ago.

“You can’t enact a curfew!” Khoury protests. “Do you have any idea what that’s going to do to the retailers if everyone has to be in their homes by ten o’clock, Mayor Snart?” 

It’s a good thing Lisa has always possessed commendable self-control (second only to that of her brother, if she’s being honest), or else her reaction would be considerably more severely. 

As it is, she merely looks up from the update on the budget report, and arches an eyebrow. 

“Ma’am,” Khoury implores. “Our economy is suffering enough as it is.”

“Yes, and do you know why?” Lisa sneers. “Because of _Zoom_. You can’t possibly tell me that you don’t want me to do everything in my power to stop him.”

“Of course I do!” she scoffs. “But Zoom’s not the only fish out there! Central City’s population is used to crime, Mayor Snart, and they’ve been spending money regardless.”

“Is that so?” Lisa feigns sincerity.

Khoury’s expression falters. “Well. The recent string of murders aside, obviously.”

Smirking, Lisa tilts her head at the woman, who’s off again. 

“But a curfew won’t solve anything! It’d be like trying to put a plaster on a bleeding wound! Considering how much money the Board poured into the CCPD it’s embarrassing how little they’ve managed, despite your reassurance that they’d get on top of this.”

“It’s being handled.”

At that, Khoury looks like she’s about to implode from fury. “Handled? Organized crime has actually _increased_ in the past three months! What happened to your special unit, huh, Mayor Snart?” 

Lisa lets her eyes go cold and her tone freeze. “I’m afraid that’s above your clearance level, Madame President.”

With an angry huff, the woman swarms off, leaving Lisa to her thoughts. 

Sometimes she wonders whether or not she would’ve run for office too if she’d known about Zoom, about the crime families profiting from the generalized feeling of anxiety and of people scrambling for protection they don’t think the police is able to provide. 

Good thing Lisa has another ace up her sleeve. And tonight it’s finally time to reap the winnings. 

*

The meta known as Reverb doesn’t look like much, admittedly, but Len can’t argue with the end results. 

“Go ahead,” Reverb tells him. The only thing that betrays the kid’s excitement is a faint twitch of his lips. “Try it.”

Len shifts the goggles in place and fires up the gun. It seems to purr in his grasp as he fires the first icy-blue ray at the closest stack of boxes, and just like that Len knows he found the Excalibur to his Arthur. 

“Zoom’s really gotta want whatever’s in that safe,” he says conversationally. 

“Stop fishing for information,” Reverb tells him, which to Len sounds as much as a confirmation as an outright yes. 

Reverb holds out another case. 

“What’s that?” 

“Oh, just a little something extra. You know, in case you want to turn up the heat.”

There’s a manic gleam to Reverb’s eyes when Len next meets his gaze. He has to force himself not to swallow. 

This entire undercover shtick can’t be over soon enough. 

But before he gets to return to the right side of the law, there’s still a crime syndicate to take down. 

*

He finds Mick Rory in the back of their base of operations, playing with his lighter. 

“You call that a flame?” Len teases. 

The first time he – alias Cliff Hetfield – asked the same question he was rewarded with a whip-fast shifting of muscles and the most exquisite glare. Nowadays, Mick’s lips barely even twitch. 

“Brought you something better.”

By the time Mick has powered up the heat gun, the man’s grinning like Christmas came early. Then again in his eyes, maybe it did. 

“Want me to thank you now or later, Hetfield?” 

To anyone else it would sound off-handed, but Len spent the past three months becoming, uh, _intimately_ familiar with every single one of Mick’s inflections, which is why he picks up on the undercurrent of unadulterated _heat_. 

“Eighteen minutes, twenty-two seconds until we leave,” Len tells him after checking his watch. 

Mick puts down the gun and steps closer. “Don’t lose track.” 

“I won’t.”

Strong hands push Len against the wall behind him. Mick’s eyes darken further as he runs a finger down Len’s chest, dipping lower until they reach his belt buckle. 

“You will,” Mick murmurs, more to himself than anyone else by the sound of it. “You always do.”

A moment later, the man is on his knees. Len splays his palms against the cold cement behind him as Mick pours weeks’ worth of experience into his movements, seeking out every spot that makes Len grunt in pleasure. 

It’s over embarrassingly quickly. 

“Well, boy scout?” 

Len’s breath is ragged when he says, “We still got five minutes.”

Mick is close enough that Len can see the mirth in his eyes as he smirks. “Sure, boss.”

It’s closer to nine minutes, though neither of them says anything. 

*

The CCPD storms the empty office building right after Len handed over the documents his crew stole from the safe across town. 

No one notices, as per design, but Len caught sight of the approaching vehicles three minutes and nineteen seconds previously. Zoom’s lackeys are still checking the content of the envelope while Len gives the signal to take their agreed upon exit route. 

“Rory,” he barks, dismissing the questioning glances he receives from the others. 

Mick pauses and turns towards him, the heat gun still firmly in his grip. His brow furrows when Len switches his own weapons and hands over the cold gun to him instead. 

“You’re taking a different exit.” Len details the alternative way out without offering an explanation. “Head to the safe house up on Warwick and wait for me.”

“You want me to split?”

“Yes. Now go.”

Len’s tone brooks no argument. For a second he fears Mick’s going to protest anyway, but in the end the man nods and does as he’s told. 

Contrary to Detective Iris West-Allen, who takes him down with so much force that Len’s certain he’s going to feel it for days. 

“We’ve got to make it look convincing,” she whispers on the way to the police car, her tone so smug that Len thinks it might drown him.

Lisa visits him in the interrogation room. Len drinks in the sight of her, from her cut-throat heels to distractingly revealing blouse, and vows to never, ever agree to deep cover again.

“Cliff Hetfield is en route to Iron Heights, where he’ll be placed in solitary,” his sister announces with a satisfied smile. 

“Peachy. Now get these off me,” Len says, holding up his still-cuffed hands for emphasis. 

As soon as she’s unlocked the handcuffs she pulls him into a bone-crushing hug that jars the bruises he got from West-Allen, but right now Len couldn’t care less. Unfortunately, Lisa has to pull back eventually. Her scowl is just as suspicious as he expected. 

“We’re missing one arrest, Lenny.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why are we missing one arrest, Lenny?”

“Because Mick Rory is going to be our informant.”

Lisa gives him a chilly smile but Len can see the anger boiling underneath her skin. “Did he suck your brain out through your dick?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Well, that’s what I’m gonna tell the Attorney General when he asks why Heatwave’s still on the loose. Oh, and why those toys from Zoom’s lapdogs are still unaccounted for. So if you wanna return to your job, _brother dear_ ,” Lisa growls, “you better give me a better angle to spin this than ‘he’s good in the sack’.”

There’s nothing like getting reamed out by his little sister, but she acquiesces once Len provides an explanation that works for all official channels involved. 

Mick himself takes more convincing. 

His reaction to the revelation that ‘Cliff’ is actually Leonard Snart is also a tad more violent. 

“Really _think_ about this,” Len barks at him, gritting his teeth against the renewed flash of pain. “You get to do whatever the hell you want. You’ll have immunity.”

“Yeah, but I don’t snitch on my crew.”

“Your crew’s making themselves comfortable in Iron Heights, Mick. I’m the only one left.”

Mick pounces, though Len saw it coming. Their guns lie forgotten on the coffee table as they trade blows – Len’s ribs are really going to hate him in the morning – yet as soon as Len flips them so that he’s on top and their gazes lock, the atmosphere shifts.

They fight it out with teeth and nails scrapping over exposed skin until Mick surrenders to his climax, spilling his release between them. 

“Informant, huh?” he says once they’re both coherent again, his voice still rough from arousal “Clever.”

Len smirks. “My ideas usually are.”

The other man sits up with a hum. Mick’s eye dart towards the side before finding Len’s again., and when they do they’ve darkened again. 

“Guess you gotta stay here – ‘s already past curfew,” Mick adds, his tone deadpan, and Len barks a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> This still feels really raw, somehow, probably because I kept rewriting the final sentence before simply cutting it^^ This could definitely use a thorough edit at some point, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless :)


End file.
